Charlie’s little heart stopped.
We had visitors. I scrambled up the steps with James close on my heels. Alan’s voice had floated down with, ‘Soldiers, sir. Those Canadians, I think.’
James just carried on past me. ‘Don’t move, Charlie, I’ll handle this one.’
The South African, Major Ira Hendriks, stood in the light. His immaculate uniform was a little muddied about the edges. We could see that he had a pair of white undies tied to the end of his leather-covered cane. Either they were some girl’s, or he was a very peculiar man indeed. At about fifteen feet James said, ‘Close enough, Mr Hendriks,’ and, ‘I thought you were some kind of a policeman.’
‘I am. But to do my sort of policing you need all the medical stuff first, so I’m also a qualified doctor. I have another doctor, and two Corpsmen with me. Can they come down too?’
‘What about the bloody Canadians?’
‘That’s all calmed down a bit. They’ve pulled back to the docks . . . apparently a barracks full of Jerries has surrendered to them there, so they have their hands full anyway.’
‘How did you know we were here?’ James was obviously pushing it a bit.
‘Apparently your ranker phoned my ranker. We were at the hospital. He said that you were stuck out here with two hundred refugees, and needed help. Can my . . .?’
‘ ’course they can, old chap. Pleased to see you again.’ He stuck out his hand for the ritual. Explanation accepted. Pax.
One of Hendriks’s people was a black man in the arse-end of an American provost’s uniform. He had a green operating theatre gown over one shoulder, and was carrying a small case. I said, ‘Wotcha, Cutter!’ as he walked up.
He said, ‘Wotcha: that’s English for something I suppose?’ and, ‘I brought you a drink.’ This was as we walked down the steps. He gave me a half-bottle of bourbon.
‘Thanks. Does that mean we can get through to the hospital now?’
‘You can walk it in thirty minutes, although I wouldn’t try it. You’ll end up down a hole with a broken leg. There’s a lot of unexploded ordnance lying about as well.’
‘Grace Baker still there?’
‘She was when I left.’
I don’t know what I had expected, but it was as if all of the air had been suddenly punched out of my body. The silence spread around Hendriks’s people as they reached the lower levels, and the people got a sight of them. Especially the Cutter. Ingrid stood up to face us. I said, ‘Tell your people that they are doctors: from the hospital. They can help the sick and hurt. They will not harm anyone.’
She turned away from me, and spoke aloud. By this time the Cutter had reached her. When she had finished speaking he reached out, and turned her face gently into the best light, and told me, ‘I can tidy that up for a start.’
Ingrid looked a little panicky. I told her, ‘He is a friend – my friend. He is a very good doctor. We call him Cutter.’
She gave him the eye, and said perfectly, ‘You will not cut my head off?’
Cutter said, ‘No. It’s far too pretty for that.’ His teeth gleamed in the light.
I went to find James. He said, ‘It’s a funny old bloody world,’ about nothing in particular.
‘Yes it is, Major. I wonder what Les is doing now?’
‘Lugging your bloody supper around,’ Les said. He was above us on the steps, and fifteen feet back. ‘Where d’ y’ wan’ it?’ He had a rations box on each shoulder. It would be full of tins of corned beef.
You can trust an officer to be ungrateful. James said, ‘I thought I left you to guard Kate?’
Les said, ‘You can trust an officer to be ungrateful, can’t you?’ Then, ‘I left an Ordnance Corps type with her, sir. It was as far as your lorries could get. They needed me to show them the way across your brick field. There’s six of us will make two journeys each – it’s about a twenny-minute stroll if we’re careful, now nobody’s shooting at you – that will give you just about enough grub for tonight. They’ll get the rest through tomorrow. You’ll have to make do without the blankets for another night.’ James didn’t say anything. Les went on, ‘I trust that’s all right, sir?’
James didn’t say anything. Not at first. Les put the boxes down when he reached our level. I helped him with them. Then James reached out and touched him on one shoulder.
‘Of course it’s all right, Les. Thank you. Thank you very much.’ They both grinned like a couple of bloody Spartans.
After a couple of trips Les went back with his squaddies. Alan produced a couple of blankets from his pack, and spread them a few steps down from the doors, then closed up and battened us in for the night. I can still remember his face, half lit, high above us. He was smiling down at James introducing a circle of middle-aged Fraus to the mysteries of the Stovie as if he had been making it all his life.
Alan called down, ‘An’ dinna ferget the handful o’ oatmeal, sir.’
James waved back. He said, ‘I won’t, Sergeant.’
That took seconds to sink in.
‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir . . . I’m no Sergeant.’
‘You will be, when you get back to your regiment.’
I had tucked myself up against a wall, in the dark. I had expected it to be cold or damp. It wasn’t. It was dry like the floor. Ingrid found me there. She squeezed alongside me, and pulled a heavy, old curtain around our shoulders. She hooked her arm tight through mine, and put her good cheek against my shoulder. We took a good couple of medicinal sucks at the Cutter’s bottle
